Under Suspicion Page #2

---

but not yesterday.

Well, he just

doesn't remember right.

Well, that may be, but in that case,

your neighbor...

Miss Lazzo,

doesn't remember either.

And another neighbor, Mr. Irwin,

also suffers memory loss.

In the whole area, you're the only one

who remembers correctly.

- Who am I to believe?

- Them, naturally.

Come on. You're taking this personally.

I'm just trying to find the truth.

You know, you enjoy hounding me.

- How is that, Henry?

- You forget I know all your tricks.

A murder by some thug or nutcase-

That's average.

But when it's a pillar

of the legal community...

that's more than

just a witness-

Then it's banner headlines,

television.

It'd help in your push to become

our next police superintendent, right?

Come on, Victor.

Confess.

See? I got you.

Let's say you're right.

Everything you say.

I bag a prominent attorney...

hang his pelt on the trophy wall

of my new luxurious offices.

What about your neighbors, then?

Are you saying that

they're all out to get you too?

- How would I know?

- Why would they be?

Maybe because I'm very rich?

Because I have a big house...

and a glamorous wife.

I have these things,

and it happens I don't deserve them.

My looks are entirely ordinary,

and I'm no genius.

Mediocre people

tolerate success...

when it comes to someone exceptional

like a movie star or an athlete...

but when it comes

to one of their own...

then it strikes them

as being an injustice.

You agree?

I think we're getting

a little far a field.

Interesting thing is, there were no

dog prints found at the murder scene...

and we know that

without the dog...

you never wouldve seen the body.

In other words,

your ghost dog story reeks.

There were

dead leaves everywhere.

How do you make dog prints

in dead leaves, Detective Opie?

I don't know.

Tell me.

You're a tax attorney.

Good at making up fantasies.

That's what

they pay you for, right?

The dog was there. Jesus.

Hold it, now.

Hold it. Hold on.

Yesterday. Damn.

They're all correct about Tango.

I didn't pick him up at Ricardi's.

I met him out on the path.

Geez.

Really had me going

there for a sec.

Good.

He gets out sometimes,

and he runs around the gardens.

Half the time...

Ricardi doesn't even know

he's missing until I bring him back.

I remember now...

that I called him.

Tango, come here, boy.

Come on.

- You just went off with him.

- Yeah, Tango's my buddy. Arent you?

Go on. Go on. Run.

Perhaps you'll understand

how our ears prick up...

every time your story changes.

Yes, and I certainly hope

this one works...

because I'm banking on this lame

dog story to get me off the hook.

Crap. How much longer

do I gotta put up with this-

Owens!

You're out of line.

Good boy.

Speaking of dogs, you keep yours

on a leash. You don't need a lawsuit.

Now, you listen to me, Victor.

This is getting ridiculous.

When you called me, you told me it was

gonna be ten minutes. Now look at this.

I'm afraid it's gonna

take a little longer.

I can see the notion of civic duty

and being a good citizen is just a myth.

- I don't remember who said it-

- You don't seem to remember very much.

I don't remember who said the police

will ensure public safety everywhere...

except inside a police station.

You called before anyone

knew Sue Ellen was missing.

Well, does that

make me the murderer?

It says right here,

"I ran home and called the police."

My God, there must have been

several places closer.

I wasn't thinking.

I just ran home.

Or maybe you thought,

"I'd better wash up first."

I don't like your tone.

And frankly, I'm beginning to find

yours more and more interesting.

What are you recording?

Do you have any idea

why you're still here?

Maybe you should call

a lawyer down here.

I am a f***ing lawyer!

This is January 7, 8:06 P.M.

San Juan Police Headquarters.

I'm Captain Benezet.

With me is Detective Owens.

We're talking

to Mr. Henry Hearst.

Do you have your permission

to tape this interview, Henry?

Why not?

I have nothing to hide.

Thank you.

Now, then-your name, age,

profession and marital status.

Come on.

Name, age, profession

and marital status, please.

You just said my name.

Fine. Whatever.

Hearst. Henry Buchanan Hearst.

I'm 57.

Your house is called "The Ilado"

up on Old San Juan Hill...

and you're an attorney?

Yes. Senior partner with Hearst,

Dean and Dumet right here in town.

You must have a lot of fancy computers

up there in that office.

You ever surf the Net? Check out

the chat rooms and the websites?

I don't know about chat rooms,

but sure.

What does this have

to do with anything?

Any other hobbies?

Computers are not my hobby.

Photography is.

I have my own darkroom.

I enjoy chronicling

the island's history.

- And you're married.

- Yes.

- Ten years now.

- And no children.

Yes. And no children.

Why not?

Chantal won't-

Chantal can't have children.

She can't, or she won't?

She has a fertility problem.

What difference does it make?

You ever hear of adopting?

You walk somebody else's dog.

That's true tact.

That's very elegant.

Do you think that's elegant?

This is what I think.

I remember that

you couldn't afford law school.

I remember you waiting on tables.

We'd swagger in, drunk...

trotting along hot-looking dolls,

spending money you know we didn't earn.

I think the matter at hand is payback.

That's what I think.

When Detective Owens arrived

at your house at 6:54 P.M. Yesterday...

he noted that you were not

wearing jogging clothes.

- I showered.

- Before you called?

Of course not.

I called as soon as I came home.

I want to report a dead body.

Officers also noted that your wife

had not yet been told about the girl.

She was in the bedroom.

It says here you called

from the bedroom.

You had to lie down.

You were distraught.

- We'd had an argument.

- When you got home?

No, earlier. Please don't

go into this now, Victor.

- It's none of your business!

- Damn it, Henry!

Chantal was in the bedroom. She was not.

The dog was with you. The dog was not.

Tell me one thing that adds up...

so we can go across the street

and have a good time.

It's a pity that you've never been

to our home. Then you'd understand.

But I was.

I was there.

Downstairs there's that-

- Upstairs it gets instructive.

- There's nothing real special about it.

Mr. Hearst didn't say "special."

He said "instructive."

Thank you.

Well, let's see.

Upstairs.

There's a hallway, right?

There's along hallway.

- Sixty feet.

- Possibly.

- Definitely.

- I count five rooms up here.

The extra bedrooms were

for the children, which were never used.

The guest bedroom was

redecorated for my wife.

Our old room is now mine.

In between...

the hallway.

Sixty feet long.

You have separate bedrooms.

My lovely Chantal's affliction

is the green-eyed monster.

They say that jealousy is all the fun

you think somebody else is having.

Chantal can be unbearable,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes